


Could Have Been Fate

by cecilantro



Series: 100 Days Of Ficlets [5]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 12:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: (Spoilers for Campaign 2 Episode 8 again!)“What you did or didn’t do doesn’t change shit, Molly.” She tells him flatly, “You understand fate, yes? It was meant to be.”





	Could Have Been Fate

**Author's Note:**

> I can't remember who was on watch the second night, other than Molly ofc, so I'm really hoping Jester was third. If not call it a small universal alteration ;D

Molly stands sentinel over Caleb once he’s intimidated their enemies into leaving. His tail lashes with anger, and he keeps it high because he wants everyone else to assume he’s asleep and leave him alone. Granted, Jester probably knows he’s awake, but something gives her an understanding and kinship with Molly, and so he knows she won’t bother him.   
(Outside of the occasional quick glance to make sure he’s okay.)   
(He isn’t.)   
Caleb’s been pulled by the collar back from death’s door, and they’re out of the woods for sure, but he’s still beaten up and blood is still drying on his shirt. The three crossbow bolts that Jester pulled out of him lie in a neat line a few feet away, the glint of Caleb’s blood on their heads reminding Molly that this is his fault, and his burden to bear.   
_ “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” _ Gustav’s voice seems to echo in the back of his mind and it’s odd to think it was less than a week ago he saw his face. He had known Gustav well enough to understand the double meaning, his memories, of course, but also…   
His gaze had flickered to Caleb then and it does again now, except this time, Caleb is out cold on the floor instead of sitting with folded arms and nervous twitches.   
Molly sits. He cards his fingers gently through Caleb’s filthy, greasy hair, and every second feels like a gift because Caleb’s skin is still warm, his chest still moves with shallow breath, and his pulse still flickers like a flame under Molly’s fingers when he moves them down to Caleb’s neck.   
His fault. If he had heard them coming, and they couldn’t have been quiet, there was  _ nine _ of them, if he had heard them he could have stopped this. He should have been in front of Caleb, like Beau had, he should have done  _ more _ .   
His tail is lashing, and it’s loud, through the leaf litter on the floor. Caleb stirs very slightly, and Beau sits up in her bedroll a few feet away, squinting through her sleep at him.   
“Molly?”   
“It’s okay, go back to sleep, nothing is wrong.” He forces himself to smile, and he can see that Beau wants to disagree, but she’s too tired. She lies back down and is out within moments. Jester turns to catch his eye.   
_ Breathe, we’re safe now _ . She mouths as him, and his annoyance at himself softens slightly, though the sting doesn’t quite go away. Molly won’t be happy until Caleb wakes up again. Not until he can see the electric blue of Caleb’s eyes, a colour like the clearest summer sky that makes Molly’s heart do something strange in his chest. Even at a memory.    
Caleb really is  _ squishy _ , three crossbow bolts had taken Nott to a semblance of tiredness during the Gnoll fights, but she had been functioning. And she had  _ far _ less blood in her veins than Caleb did. Does. Did? How much had he lost?   
Molly frowns, one hand continues to stroke Caleb’s hair gently, and the other moves to run his fingers over the angry red scars that had previously been holes in Caleb’s flesh, knit back together quickly by a few quiet words and a gentle touch from Jester’s nimble hands.   
Molly is so  _ tired _ . He doesn’t want to sleep, if anything else happens, he wants to guard Caleb. But he finds himself swaying as he sits, his eyes closing against his will, and he fights with everything he has but he can’t stay awake. Dawn hasn’t even risen.    
With the last of his consciousness, Molly swings his coat off and slips down next to Caleb in his bedroll, and it’s a hell of a squeeze, but he manages it. He pulls the coat up to cover them and leans his head on Caleb’s good shoulder, his horn sliding easily into the right-angle between Caleb’s shoulder and head, and Molly draws an arm up and around Caleb in the perfect place to miss each of the many, many wounds Caleb has accumulated over the past two days. Tucked around his wizard, Molly’s last thought is a question;   
What happens if love isn’t enough to keep someone alive?

He’ll have to try harder.

  
  


Jester pokes Molly in the back of the head with the toe of her boot the next morning, and it’s gentle enough that he doesn’t start awake, just comes to slowly. It’s light now, though it’s blocked partially by the tree cover, and Molly is thankful because his mind is still wired to darkness.    
He’s in exactly the same place he’d fallen asleep, pressed to Caleb with almost a sense of desperation. He thinks he’s doing a decent job of hiding that.    
Caleb has moved a little during their rest, though, and Molly feels one of Caleb’s warm hands on his forearm, in turn laid over Caleb’s waist. Jester crouches behind Molly, running her fingers through the shorter hair at the base of his neck to ensure he’s awake.   
“Are you okay?” She asks him in a whisper, and he can’t reply right then because he’s too close to Caleb’s ear and doesn’t want to risk waking him.    
Carefully, slowly, he extracts himself from Caleb’s bedroll and stands, bends to brush down his pants, and when he straightens up, Jester is holding his coat open so that he can slip himself into it. He does. It’s like an old friend.   
“Are you okay, Molly?” Jester asks him again, and it’s just as quiet. Molly takes a breath and tries not to let his voice waver.   
“It was my fault, and look at him.” He gestures to Caleb. Jester looks, then looks back.   
“But he’s okay now.”   
“He could have died!” it’s a loud whisper, and the wild and panic is in Molly’s voice now, “He went down like a lead weight!”   
Jester cocks her head at him, a frown creasing her brow but not quite reaching the rest of her face,   
“There’s no point focusing on the past!” she tells him brightly, and the frown disappears to be replaced with a grin, “It is not something that you can change. You can hurt and blame yourself, but you can’t go back and fix your fuck up. If you’d been paying more attention, you would have heard them coming, maybe Caleb wouldn’t have been hurt!” and Molly winces as she pauses to draw breath.   
(It had been Caleb that woke them anyway. If it wasn’t for Caleb, Molly would be dead.)   
“Ah, no.” Jester pats his face until he focuses on her fully, “But they may still have attacked, and he might have been hurt. You see what I mean?”   
“No.” Molly says bluntly, honestly. Jester sighs dramatically,    
“What you did or didn’t do doesn’t change  _ shit _ , Molly.” She tells him flatly, “You understand fate, yes? It was meant to be.” And she shakes her head, dismissing him as he opens his mouth. He shuts it again with a snap. She finishes her tirade, and looks to him with a different expression, almost curiosity, “I woke you before the others, in case you wanted to keep your secrets as secrets.” And she winks, brushes herself down, and flounces off to wake everyone else. She leaves Caleb behind, and Molly knows he’s meant to wake him.   
He kneels,   
“Caleb.” he pats Caleb’s face, and his heart is in his mouth. Beau said he’d be okay in the morning. He hopes she was right. “Caleb, my dear, wake up, we’re moving on soon.”   
Caleb stirs, and Molly blinks back a few stray tears of complete relief.    
“Mollymauk?” Caleb’s accent is thick from sleep, and Molly sits back on his heels, leaves one hand on Caleb’s shoulder because he can’t quite believe he’s solid.   
“Yes, yes, it’s me. It’s time to wake up.”   
Caleb’s eyes open, and Molly feels his heart jump in his chest at that beautiful colour. Caleb looks at him as he breathes in, trying to capture the moment and store it in his lungs.   
“Ah, I’m alive.” Caleb sounds dimly shocked. Molly smiles, so wide he feels his face will crack,    
“You’re alive!”   
“And you’re okay?” Caleb asks as he sits up, wincing at his own sore muscles. Molly’s so surprised, he just blinks. Confusion clouds his face, and he frowns a little with it. Caleb looks him in the eyes, “Mollymauk?”   
“Hm? Pardon?” Molly must have misheard.   
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Caleb says, slowly, and it just… doesn’t click in Molly’s mind that Caleb could care about him. But there he is, blue eyes still trained on him, still waiting.   
“I’m not hurt.” He tells Caleb, “I’m okay.”   
Caleb studies his face.   
“That’s a crock of horseshit if I ever heard one.” Caleb says, matter-of-factly, and climbs out of his bedroll to begin packing up. Fjord and Nott have dragged themselves up behind Molly, and Beau is in the process of. Molly sputters a little.   
“Wh- H- Horseshit?” Molly starts a few words before settling on the repeat, and Caleb side-eyes him.   
“Something is wrong, Molly, I can tell.”   
_ Molly _ . It’s not so often that Caleb calls him Molly. He can’t think of a time before, not off of the top of his head.   
Caleb is watching him.    
Realisation dawns.   
“You blame yourself.” it’s a statement, not a question, he already knows, and Molly throws his hands up.   
“Got me.” He says, “Don’t lecture, I’ve already had that from Jester.”   
Caleb squints with the effort of obeying. He stands up and offers Molly one of his hands, which Molly takes to pull himself upright too. He tries to let go.   
Caleb doesn’t let him.   
“I’d do it again.” Caleb tells him.   
“It should have been me.” Molly replies, instantly, and Caleb squeezes his hand,   
“If you had been hurt, I would have been responsible. Natural error happens, magic does not fail.” And he tilted his head a little, “They could have killed you, you know? Without any of us knowing.”   
Molly feels Caleb’s fingers tighten around his own. The tables are turned, the odds are flipped, Molly holds fate in his hands.    
Fate looks like a dirty human wizard with eyes the colour of the sky, wearing an expression of distant horror.   
He leans in and presses a kiss to Caleb’s forehead.   
“But they didn’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> I continue to project onto Molly and Caleb. Yall are dealin with my personal issues! Thanks for enjoying my torment ;D  
> The next couple are set to be like, a follow-up to hot'n'cold and some flashback bullshit for caleb cause thats one im feline right meow


End file.
